


that L-word

by TallowCat



Series: Flowers & Tea [1]
Category: Splatoon
Genre: Other, is t bc i use swears tm, oc time babey, theyre in love chamomile just cant talk v well
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-07
Updated: 2019-08-07
Packaged: 2020-08-11 02:36:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,518
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20146210
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TallowCat/pseuds/TallowCat
Summary: 5 times posey said ‘i love you’ and the 1 time chamomile replied





	that L-word

i.

The first time Posey says it Chamomile was gross and sweaty. Objectively gross. Yet Posey lays right beside them, head on their stomach as their breathing begins to calm down. Yeah, it’s gross, and Posey doesn’t hide her screwed up nose. She didn’t even know that belly sweat was a thing until now - and she decided she very much didn’t like it.  
Yet she didn’t move, being lulled by Chamomile’s now easy breathing. 

  
The work out may have made them sweaty and smelly, but it also offered a chance to lay together. Though, don’t be confused, Posey had done little more than watch - ogle over - Chamomile. Stretches, weights, push ups, a run… could you blame her for watching those muscles flex?

“Millie?” she asks once it’s all calm.  
There’s no verbal response - there rarely is - but a hand touches her tentacles to show they’re listening. Posey pretends the tendril doesn’t curl affectionately around swarthy fingers.

There’s less nerves than she anticipated, maybe because it doesn’t feel like it’s anything different to their normal selves. The number of times they’ve been mistaken for smitten lovers were too many to count. Fair enough, she supposed, considering how they pretty much cuddled and nuzzled at every turn - lazily Posey wondered if they could get away with it in Turf War if Chamomile stopped using that bulky ass hydra.

“I love you.”

Fingers tug gently at the tentacle wrapped lovingly around them, making Posey look up. She wonders if she’s meant to be nervous or unsure, because she feels nothing but calm.  
_‘I L Y’ _they sign lazily, a small smile on their face.  
It’s small, simple, and so very _ them _. No big show and dance, just two dumbasses laying on the ground, smelling of sweat and cuddly as ever.

Cheeks flushing a light yellow Posey buries her nose into the soft flesh of Chamomile’s belly - though she quickly jerks back with a gag, nose screwed up and tongue stuck out in disgust.

“You reek!”

Their laughter rings out in the empty air. Posey’s girly one and Chamomile’s rough and croaky one.

ii.

Posey kicks her legs lazily as she watches the mascot at the fair hand out balloons, take pictures and high-five little squids and octos alike - plus the odd teen who wanders over. It may not have looked like much fun, but Posey found a lot of enjoyment in watching the bright pink bunny hop around with boundless energy.

It’s only when they wave goodbye to a gaggle of kids does the bunny notice her, their gazes meeting. Posey can’t help her shit eating grin. She can practically feel the glare on her skin, but it only makes her grin brighter.

The bunny wanders over - shirt plastered with Off the Hook and Squid Sister collab advertising - and puts their hands on their hips. Even with that comical head she can tell they’re embarrassed and huffy.

“I don’t get a balloon?”

Fluffy paws come up and yank the head off, revealing a sweaty green Inkling to be hiding inside! Posey can’t tell if the green taking up Chamomile’s face is from the heat or from embarrassment. She knows her partner doesn’t like being seen at her job, but Posey can’t help but wanna see her. She wanted to go to the fair, she wanted to see Chamomile, this was a win-win situation in her mind.

A paw came up before dropping back down, Chamomile realising paws weren’t sufficient for signing. Instead their mantle rippled with uneasy pinks and purples, though Posey also caught their pointy ears wiggling, tipped green all over.

Inklings are such odd creatures, cute, but odd.

Posey is thankful she has her own cute Inkling to tease.

She breaks from her thoughts when a fuzzy paw touches her cheek, though she isn’t _ really _ out of it until there’s lips pressed against hers. Posey’s quick to lean into it, hands coming to cup green tinted cheeks. Though, that does bring her attention back to the gross amount of sweat on them. She jerks back, almost laughing at the kicked-dog-look Chamomile gives her.

“You smell, sweaty Inkling,” she teases.

There seems to be a theme of Chamomile being sweaty and stinky, it makes Posey laugh.

Alas, all good things must come to an end and Chamomile needs to get back to balloons and pictures. They don’t get away quick enough though, for Posey pulls them back down for a quick peck and a full-hearted ‘I love you’.

Chamomile shoves the head back on and books it - Posey swears she can see the pink fur tinting green.

They meet up later and play silly fair games all night.

Without the suit, of course.

iii.

Movie night. Both fantastic and the worst thing she ever agreed to. Fantastic because it was a time of cuddles, sneaky kisses, and small words. It was also the worst because Chamomile absolutely _ adored _ the kind of movies that freaked Posey out!

Horror, thriller, crime, you name it! Anything with that horrible suspense and fear Chamomile adored. (Posey always teased that it was because Chamomile’s turf gear was picture perfect for a horror killer - especially that hockey mask…)

Still, they loved these movies and it _ was _ their turn to pick… So, well, Posey would just need to suck it up! Even if she was shaking.

They were barely halfway through and already Posey was curled up in their lap, scared shitless of some dumb horror flick Chamomile had chosen for the night. The bastard eve3n had the gall to grin whenever Posey hid her face. If she wasn’t scared outta her mind, why, Posey swore she’d show them a thing or two! For now the poor octo would hide away from fictional killers in Mills worn flannel.

She _ hated _ this movie with the passion of a billion suns! How could anyone not be freaked by a gore covered murderer!? Still, she powered through it. Though ‘powering through it’ meant she spent most of the final act hiding in Chamomile’s chest, begging for the final girl to make it out alive. When she did, it was a moment of relief, quickly shattered as the open ending baited for a sequel.

She did Not want to see the sequel, she did not want to know anything else about the series and she did not wanna sleep alone tonight. She would have to be pried off with a crowbar because she was not letting go of Chamo’s middle, nor was she gonna let them remove the arm securely around her waist.

Posey feels them laugh more than they hear it, and she’s quick to snap an ‘I hate you’ under her breath. It’s hardly true, but it makes Chamomile snort and offer and apologetic nuzzle. Once again, Posey pretends her tentacles don’t curl up in a silent want.

The loss of her other hand to Posey’s protection made communication a bit hard, but even Chamomile knew the tried and true method of making their girlfriend notice them. And truly, Posey could not stand the assault of kisses.

A little smooch to curling tentacles, a tiny brush of lips against her forehead… then a bombardment of kisses against her face! How could a poor octo stand against such an attack!? The answer was, they didn’t. Posey broke into giggles and laughter, rounded ears wiggling, and a grin as bright as morning on her face. 

The sight made Chamomile chirp, a rough sound that broke up the kisses. Posey wasn’t sure she’d ever laughed so much, belly aching and smile so wide it hurt her cheeks. She’d nearly forgotten Chamomile had made her watch some shitty scary movie!

“I love you,” she managed between laughter.

iv.

She stays the night with Chamomile, hidden in the warmth of their chest, wrapped up and kept hidden from everything by their arms. It was nice. Simple, easy, so very them. Maybe Posey was just weak to even the hint of romance…

Yeah… no, she wouldn’t put it over her, because it was sadly probably all too true. Or maybe she was just weak to Chamomile, even if she was smelling of sweat and mascot stink. 

Her fingers poked at one of the long tentacles hanging from the Inkling’s head, nudging it closer so her own could wrap around it. Posey may have liked to pretend her tentacles would behave, both of them knew the appendages would reach out to curl with Chamomile’s own the moment they got the chance.

Selfishly she wished their tentacles could hold in turn - to her that was the worst part about Inklings. 

This was good enough, she supposed, Posey still sulked about it, but it was good enough.

Her eyes were falling shut and Chamomile’s breathing had settled well enough. Warm and comfortable, Posey wasn’t sure what else she could want.

Breathing in their scent she sighed out a small “I love you” before letting herself fall into the arms of sleep.

She could get used to this.

v.

_ ‘If you’re going to leave so much stuff here why not just move in _.’

Chamomile had signed that to her days ago after she’d brought back some of her clothes - washed and smelling of lavender - and Posey was still running it through her mind with every moment. Was it just a tease? Or was it a bit of an invitation? It was hard to guess the tone based purely on sign, hands weren’t good at expressing emotions like that.

They’d been together a while - but was it long enough for move in material? - and she was over there enough… Plus the aforementioned leaving her shit there all the time.

Posey wouldn’t deny that the idea hadn’t crossed her mind before. She wasn’t _ that _ attached to her current apartment, and she often found herself...longing for the closeness of just existing in the same space as her partner.

Ugh...Posey was way too invested in simple romance, wasn’t she?

Or, more accurately, the simplicity of domesticity.

Next thing you know she’d be fantasising about having a couple of plants together and taking turns cooking dinner.

...oh cod she already was.

But how do you bring up ‘hey i wanna move in with you and be a domestic couple that exchanges kisses as we pass each other’ to your partner? Especially when you’re unsure if your partner even meant it? What if Chamomile preferred her home to be Posey free? Maybe she couldn’t handle having Posey around every day?

Oh dear she was spiralling.

Maybe she should just ask? Was that too forward? Or should she wait for Chamomile to ask? What if they didn’t? 

She near fainted when the knock at her door reached her. A visitor? Why? Who? Had she missed a bill? Had she angered some angry squids? She knew she was spiralling, yet that didn’t make things settle any easier.

“Yeah?”

Oh, it was...oh cod it was Chamomile. Maybe they’d heard her thoughts and had come to tell her to knock it the fuck off. She could practically feel herself melting into a puddle of ink. It didn’t help that Chamomile was looking at her like they’d never met before.

“W-What’s up, Millie?” she squeaked, “lovely day, eh? D-Did I leave laundry over..?”

It took a moment but Chamomile finally lifted their hands.

_ “I suppose it’s about that,” _ they started, _ “are you okay?” _

“J-Just peachy! What about my laundry?”

_ “It’s not really about the laundry, but, _” their hands hesitated, floating in the air for a moment. Posey was quick to zone in on the green beginning to tint their ears and face.

_ “We’ve been dating for a while” _ \- Posey swore her heart skipped - _ “and you’re around a lot so I thought,” _ the green took up her face, _ “maybe we could start to move in...together. _”

The Inkling was quick to shove their hands into their pockets, eyes looking anywhere but Posey. Said Octoling could only stare as the question settled in. Start to move in together… 

“L...Like moving stuff?”

Chamomile nodded, shuffling booted feet around.

“I would like that,” she admitted quietly.

Inkling and Octoling, both standing, looking anywhere but each other, with bright, colourful blushes taking up their faces. 

_ “Sounds good, I’ll help out, see ya,” _ Chamomile’s hands nearly moved too fast to make out the motions, the signs sloppy. With a face bright green Chamomile turned and quickly began to leave, boots heavy with each step.

Snapping out of it _ just _ in time Posey called out, “I love you!”

She slumped against the doorframe, not even attempting to fight off the absolutely giddy smile that had begun to take over her face. 

Fuck man, she was absolutely in love…

i.

The sounds of the Splatfest were far off, and their body’s were weary after hours of turf, but they were still up and moving. Well, sorta. They were in Chamomile’s living room - _ their _living room - silently swaying to distant music. It was hardly a true dance, they were too tired for that, but it was enough. It was nice, it was simple.

It was so very them.

The simple sways were comfortable, the hands on Posey’s hips were careful, and her head on Chamomile’s chest just felt _ right _. For once everything just felt like it fit into place without any issues. There was no internal struggles, no anxiety biting at their heels, just each other. Sappy, yeah, but it was true for them.

Listening to the Inkling’s heartbeats Posey wondered how she could ever think ill of such beings. The pretty colours that rippled through their tentacles, the expressive eyes, the warmth of their body so close… Maybe that last one was a bit projective.

Even so, she squeezed Chamomile a little tighter, burying her nose into the scent of lavender. If her legs weren’t starting to ache she was sure she could have fallen asleep right there.

“Posey.”

Her eyes snapped open when the rough voice reached her. Chamomile didn’t speak much, but Posey was absolutely in love with their voice. It wasn’t a traditionally soothing sound - it was rough like a garbage disposal and tight from struggled use - but it had Posey swooning.

“Yes, Millie?”

They swayed, simple back and forth, simple, easy. 

A calloused hand tipped Posey’s chin up, and she was quickly met with equally rough lips on her own. It took not even a heartbeat for Posey to sink into it, pushing to her tip-toes to press them closer, to slide their lips over each other smoother.

The hands on her hips had moved to cup her cheeks, and Posey’s tentacles were quick to coil around Chamomile’s wrists. They offered something of a reassuring squeeze to the Inkling’s flesh, letting them know the action was heavily enjoyed.

Yet, they had to part, and Posey couldn’t help her whine as she curled clawed fingers around Mills long tentacles. Yes, she was tired, but she also wanted to kiss Chamomile until they were purely green in the face.

A thumb brushed her cheek, their noses bumped, and Chamomile spoke with that ever so rough and rumbly voice;

“I love you, Posey…”


End file.
